Recuperation
by Fraye
Summary: Sometimes, the thing you need the most is the one thing you've run from for all of your life.
1. The One Who Cared

It was only a matter of time before I realized that the meaning I'd once found in running was for naught. I'd run from the world, and the isolation turned into something that I may never be able to deal with. I miss society, maybe even for the same reason that I had hated them so. It's strange to admit that I was wrong, I've never been wrong before. I always made the decisions. Was this… the wrong one?

My single good eye came to rest on my arm, covered in the grizzled grey fur that was possibly a byproduct of a lack of initiative. I'd never thought that taking care of myself would do anything; guess I regret that too. The air was thick with the scent of my self-pity, but I couldn't help but wallow in it. I'd basically thrown it all away, hadn't I? I'd finally got the chance to live a 'normal' life, but I withdrew from that same life. I pushed everyone away and… and—fuck.

I've always had someone to blame, but there's not even a name I can associate to this. Things had been perfect, so why did I do this? Am I vain? What about stupid? Is there even a word to describe the idiocy of my own actions? A small chuckle slipped from my lungs as a paw reflexively reached at the gun—resting in the holster on my hip—enjoying the cool feel of the metal against the pad of my paw. It'd be an easy way out if I were lucky enough to have a loaded battery in it. I hadn't the money to reload it for a while; but, the feel of having it in my hands was soothing. Ha! This time the chuckle was softer, a few words escaping my pursed lips, "Big bad Wolf, comforted by his horrible past as a murderer." It was irony at its best.

There was no reason for me to still be alone honestly. I'd been in his wolfen for several months, banking on low power modes. My reserves were low, and I'd be forced back in the matter of days. Sargasso was gone, as was every base and home I had ever had. The home I'd had in Corneria had been foreclosed upon a while ago. Would this be considered homeless? It is possible after all, that since I had no home and I lived in a vehicle that I was homeless. That's funny, especially after falling off of a 3 million credit bounty—of what I'd stolen—that I'd had no money whatsoever. Who would take pity on a poor man, a former murderer?

With the silence engulfing me, it was a wonder that I hadn't lost it already. Had I lost it? There was no one to answer it, but it was no surprise when my own subconscious said it was so. A simple laugh escaped my lungs, cut off by a sudden crackle filling the wolfen. Someone had made connection to my communication systems, but there was no visible ship for miles. "Wolf?" questioned the voice, too mangled by the crackle to recognize. It was at that moment that a large grey ship seemingly came from nowhere. I'd heard of it, but personally had never seen it. The small red logo on the side was faded, but the image of the fox held true. Star Fox… this was Fox McCloud.

"'O' Donnell," I rasped, glancing down at my feet. The sudden presence of another made me notice more things about myself that I wasn't enjoying. With so much time spent without any hygiene or anything, the scent of my own dirty fur—mingling scents of sweat, blood, and the strange salty scent that tears brought—filled the air. I coughed violently, glancing at the large ship hopefully. The glass reflected my image just slightly, and I felt disgusted with it. I hadn't maintained myself at all, and it did nothing but show at this point. The few cuts I'd attained from scratching at my fur were infected and filled with puss, my eye-patch had worn away to reveal the white eye. It stared irritably back at me, completely contradicting my thoughts, and the appearance of my other eye. It was almost as if it had a mind of its own.

"What are you doing out here? I heard you got foreclosed on, but you were already gone. I've been looking for you for a few hours now; I was almost ready to give up," the voice came, almost sounding concerned. Before I could even respond, there was more and more flowing through that worn out speaker, "Come on and dock already, don't even think of saying no. I can get your accommodations set up and you can explain everything to me. If you want to argue, you can wait until later, okay?" Despite my pride, I was open to the idea. I couldn't exactly say no, could I? It's not like I had anything better to do; and I'd just die. A chance at redemption? I'd like to take that; at least, I think so.

I guided my ship towards the larger grey one ready to dock. There was no limit to the feelings washing over me, and I worked at trying to mute them so I'd be as neutral as possible when I arrived. There was no time for me to think as to why the fox was doing this, but the idea that someone actually cared was something. Maybe this was for the best.


	2. Logical Lack of Logic

It hurt to think that I'd ever be wrong, but as I sat there and glanced occasionally at the small form of the fox near me. The mouth of that creature never stopped moving, but the words never reached my ears. Of everything I thought I knew, the thought that Fox could give a damn about what happened to me had been proven false. Here he was, giving me shelter, and food, and care… but why? 

There was no conceivable reason to care about a murderer. I murdered innocents, I murdered hero; but, worst of all, I murdered his father. He should hate me; he should've killed me on the spot, not saved me. What could make him overlook that all? Could it be _that_? I'd never experienced it myself, and I never expected to have seen it happening and involving me.

"Wolf?" he said, pushing my chest a bit, playfully. A blush hit my cheek at the small invasion of space as I glanced up. I was thankful that it couldn't show through my fur, but I had no guarantee that my eyes would stay true to me as well. I blinked, trying to recapture what he'd said up to this point, but to no avail.

A small cough rattled my lungs, the next few words raspy, "I'm sorry, you lost me a bit somewhere along the way. Anything really important that you'd like to summarize… Fox?" I asked, catching myself before I said any of the names I'd usually given the Fox in his mind. Runt and pest came to mind, but they were things I'd rather the caring male would not know about, at least for my sake. If Fox knew about them, there'd be a very good chance that this all would end very fast, and I'd go back to dying alone.

"No, it doesn't matter, just some basics about the Great Fox and stuff. You'll survive without them," he sad, sighing a little at the end. He breathed in deeply, a smile popping onto his face as his words hit a more upbeat note, "You'll have two choices of where to sleep, the infirmary or my room. After everyone left, I converted a lot of the bedrooms, except for mine of course, into various recreation related stuff. So, before you make your decision, would you like to see the rooms?"

His had grasped at mine, not giving me a chance to answer. The blush returned, my face getting flushed fast as I was dragged along the halls, doing a half-jog through the halls. Each step seemed to last an eternity, and other than the periodic glance to the scenery to either side; my eyes were locked on the other male running in front of me. It was quiet… but the quiet was appropriate—it was like words would ruin the moment. It was irony, wasn't it? The feeling that silence would make the moment was perfect but trying to explain it in words.

We came to the room, an automated door sliding open to reveal a surprisingly large room. A desk sat in the corner to the right of the door, a school-like chair pulled out violently. An unmade bed sat at the other wall, blue sheets on the soft white linen. Some odd clothes sat on the floor, some dirty and some clean. It gave the room a livable feeling, and the stale aroma of musk illuminated the room. A magazine, most likely on the risqué side, was wedged under the mattress. With what little I knew of Fox, this room _did_ seem very 'him'.

"So, here's where you'd be sleeping. The bed is technically a queen size, so if you did end up sleeping in here, you'd have your own space. We wouldn't be forced to cuddle or anything," he said, losing a bit of pitch and energy in the last few words. "But! This would be the best choice considering the conditions I'm getting you from. We wouldn't want you to do anything rash and leave or something. At least here, you're more obligated to do what's better for you and stay." A smile grew on his lips, and I turned away from the smaller male, blush burning into my cheeks.

A slight rasp released from my lips, words working their way out again, "This'll be fi-ne" my voice fading out and cracking for a split second. I guess if anything, I missed interaction. Maybe time with Fox would be a good thing for me. Eventually I'd get self-esteem, right? Eventually I'd have the confidence I once had. Why was he doing this? There… there was one other question though. If anything, why would I be letting him do this? It was like I wasn't thinking. But, the feeling of bliss that it brought was too much. I guess I preferred whatever _this_ was.


	3. Conquering One's Self

I laid there awkwardly in the bed, not sure how to react in the darkness. Fox had progressively inched closer and closer to me in his sleep; and at this point, I could feel every definition on his mostly bare, save the boxers, body. His arms wrapped around my body—which in itself was a feat, getting his arm under my body—pulling me close to him. There wasn't much wonder as to _why_ I could feel every inhale and exhale. If anything… he was warm.

As far as I could recall, the last, and only, person that cuddled with me walked away with a black eye. The feelings Fox radiated were becoming more and more obvious, at least in the fact that the smaller male liked me. I hadn't the slightest clue how I felt though. The comforting feeling of his arms around me—heaven—was partnered with the very obvious discomfort that I felt with it. Did I _like_ him? Signs pointed to yes… but if that's the case, am I just uncomfortable with the prospect of it all.

I'd never thought of it before, sexuality and that stuff. I'd always just gone with straight and thrown caution to the wind. The sex felt fine, and I got _off_ to it in the end. The question wasn't even if I was gay or not at this point, because it was pretty obvious that there was at least a smidgeon of my heart dedicated to the fox next to me; but, was this threatening my choices up to now. I'd made so many bad choices, wrong-wrong-wrong; yet, I was in denial every time one would rear its ugly head and tell me flat out that—I was wrong. The word itself tasted funny. Wrong. Wrong~ Wrong-wrong-wrong. Wrong? Wrong.

For now, I was left with my arms awkwardly bent so I wasn't hugging him back. If I'd faced the other direction, it'd be easier to accept this all; he'd be hugging me, and that'd be it. Because I faced him… because I was silly enough to even get in the bed in the first place, I had to make the choice. Hug him, and he wakes up content—don't, and he wakes up depressed. For some reason, his happiness meant a lot to me. The thought of him sad made it hard for me to even think of denying it.

My arms pressed forwards, closing and pressing Fox perfectly against my body. I had about as much clothing as he did, leaving it a slippery slope as to what could happen if either of us were to hit that point. Almost in reflex to the hug, the final barrier in the cuddling, the fox pressed his muzzle deep into my chest. A blush hit my cheeks as I was forced to wonder what we are.

We had been enemies before, out for each other's life—oh, Fox always made sure we didn't die in those battles. He's cared for a long time now. We were definitely more than friends, friends don't cuddle… but we weren't lovers-boyfriends-together-whatever, were we? It wasn't official, but I can't say I was against the idea. As sleep crept upon me, I let out a small, "I love you, Fox," as if he would hear or would believe it. I wasn't even sure if I believed it.


End file.
